Elements
by BlondeChick2009
Summary: Snapshots of five characters. Part of my writing exercise program. Ratings will vary.
1. Soothe

**I'm doing some writing exercises in which I randomly generate numbers from lists of fandoms and characters! This is going to be my AtLA set, and I'll have others, too. I'll update each fandom when I can. After picking a fandom and character, I go into my itunes shuffle and get inspiration from songs!**

**ATLA, Zuko, Smile Like You Mean It by The Killers**

Zuko doesn't have a reason to smile. The little, halfhearted grins his uncle rarely works out of him hardly count in his opinion.

Not that the banished prince gives much thought to how often he does or does not smile. The only thing he keeps track of besides the days that pass without glimpse of the Avatar are the days without glimpse of Azula.

He supposes that's enough of a reason to smile.

His left lip rises in sneer at the thought of his sister. He hopes Azula is having as much trouble finding him as he is finding Aang and his friends. Of course, there's the chance she's found them first…

He shakes his head, not allowing himself the thought. He would surely know for certain if Azula had somehow beat him to his quarry. She would not win _his_ honor.

Zuko drummed his fingers on the side of the ship as it slipped angrily through the water. He kept his eyes skyward, longing to see the wretched air bison. Impatient and impulsive is the prince.

His other hand skims lightly over the red flesh of his scar. He doesn't realize that he does this. It's a bit morbid, the fascination his fingers find in touching the shiny, dead skin.

Realization springs on him, and the jaded boy digs a vicious nail into his face. He doesn't even wince. He hasn't felt much on the left side for months now…

He turns from the unchanging waves and scans a practiced eye over his troops. He still isn't quite sure how he ended up with these men. They followed him like loyal dogs at first, but now he was aware of an ever growing tension amongst them. His fist clenches. They'll be singing praises when they finally catch up to the Avatar. Bitterness roils in his gut. These men are in it for a piece of his honor. Nothing more, nothing less.

Zuko snorts and stalks across the deck, barking orders here and there. A few men scurry away, afraid of his anger. Most narrow their eyes and glide away, barely tolerating this boy who thinks himself worthy of fire.

Zuko ignores all of them. There will be time enough to weed out the conspirators and cowards. He turns toward the prow, frown deepening as men veer around him, eyes down.

The waves heave suddenly, and Zuko spreads his feet to stabilize himself as the ship reacts. He flings a hand out, to find it clutching onto a shoulder.

He turns his good side and sees his uncle calmly contemplating the sea ahead as he sips jasmine tea. The steam wafts off the little pearl cup and Zuko lets himself breathe it in.

Iroh doesn't look at his nephew, but he remains close, letting the boy lean on him. Zuko steps a bit closer and follows the old general's gaze to the horizon. The sea settles and Iroh continues sipping.

Zuko's face relaxes. He smiles.


	2. There's No Going Back

**I'm doing some writing exercises in which I randomly generate numbers from lists of fandoms and characters! This is going to be my AtLA set, and I'll have others, too. I'll update each fandom when I can. After picking a fandom and character, I go into my itunes shuffle and get inspiration from songs!**

**ATLA, Katara, Dark Horse by Katy Perry**

_"We could be friends."_

The offer had died on her lips back in the catacombs.

Someone like him didn't deserve friends.

But now here they were again. Katara, Azula, and Zuko. Only this time the playing field was leveled differently.

Katara stood, one hand on a pillar of the court yard, watching the wild flames swell and shrink rapidly. The air roared, hissed, and snapped as though they were all standing in the den of angry dragons. Blue flames zagged viciously to each side of the arena, rushing to create a circle that would cut the combatants off from outside interference.

Not that Katara could find it in herself to move. She was petrified.

Dual walls of blood orange flames erupted up and up and up, effectively cutting off the erratic sapphire ones, while a huge pulse of red rolled up the middle, straight for the source of the evil blaze.

Katara watched, amazed at the spectacle. The red current heaved and ebbed around Azula, swallowing her attempt at a counter. Zuko moved carefully, swaying gently, pushing and pulling the inferno as though it were an ocean.

Azula responded as only she would.

Blue sliced through the waves of red, lancing violently, its heat licking Katara's skin as it ricocheted around the columns. She quickly leaped back. Azula was laughing. Yet she didn't sound pleased.

Zuko had dodged his sister's strikes and was now lobbying quick bolts of his own, the fire bending technique obvious in his movements once more. The sudden change in his tactics took the acting Fire Lord off guard and she was sent crashing to the ground.

Katara was amazed when the twisted girl stands back up, limbs struggling to support her. Azula's hair hung in untamed tangles around her scary expression.

Zuko settled into a new position. "No lightning, today? What's the matter? Afraid I'll redirect it?"

Katara was already moving, praising her feet for letting her go. She knew lighting could be redirected, she's heard of it before. But she's never seen Zuko do it and she's terrified of Azula. She needs to be there…just in case.

Azula narrowed her eyes, clearly reeling in her wrath. A heart beat.

"Oh, I'LL SHOW YOU LIGHTING."

The lightning was screaming, Zuko was screaming, Katara was stunned silent.

_Katara paced angrily back and forth. How that—that _fiend_ though he could just waltz in offering himself up as a fire bending master and be greeted gladly. How could he stand there and think everyone would be so pleased. How _could_ he?_

_Yet he was welcomed. If not pleasantly, than calmly enough. No one else was letting their emotions fuel the decision. No one else was suffering the torment Katara was, having the snake-rat in their midst. _

_She had threatened him. He had taken it. She hadn't believed his silent acceptance possible, and it only made her angrier. She went out._

_He had found her later, sending stinging whips of water through the trees, slicking branches and leaves apart. Her arms snapped quickly, throwing ice spikes, water balls, and steam to and fro._

_She had spun around, seen him, and had launched steam straight for him. His eyes had widened as the heat flew to meet him. A fine, warm mist washed over him instead. _

_He had opened his eyes to see her shoulders heaving._

_She hadn't had the guts to burn him. She had cooled the attack, reluctant to hurt him. She didn't know how this made her feel._

_Zuko moved to step forward, but stopped at her raised hand and glaring eyes._

_"Don't." She looked away. "I'm doing this for Aang. I'm doing this for the world. I will tolerate this situation. I will accept it."_

_That she didn't have to like it was left unsaid._

_She stomped back toward camp, stopping just at his left side. "Don't make me your enemy."_

Blind emotion had guided her to his side. Later, Katara wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to relate how she had gotten the better of Azula of the Fire Nation. How she had drowned out the crazed girl's barbs, how she had lived through the resulting lightning storm. She had been only vaguely aware of wrapping the chains around the astonished fire bender's wrists. How she had got there, she wasn't sure.

She was only certain of her actions as she healed Zuko. And when he relaxed, it was one of the strongest feelings of relief Katara ever felt.

"Thank you, Katara."

Her eyes watered. "I think I'm the one who should be thanking you."


	3. Cold

**I wrote this several months ago and forgot about it until I was fishing through my writing exercise document. Have an Azula blurb prompted by my morbid fascination with her~~**

It is common knowledge that the color blue symbolizes the cold. And yet, blue flames burn hotter than red.

Children learn by example.

Princess Azula, raised as only royalty was raised—by countless cooing nannies, careful tutors, and a warm mother—learned in just this manner.

She learned, through their weakness and simpering pleasantries, how not to behave.

Her father was mysterious. She and Zuko barely ever saw him. She heard the maids and servants talk, though. A constant stream of information about the children was relayed to the invisible man. Azula never failed to demand information regarding her father. "Where does he reside? Will he want to see me? Does he like us? Is he in here?"

The last question was answered with the door she had been inching open being hastily shut again by her anxious mother.

"Sweetheart, your father is in an important meeting, and you must never presume you are invited."

Six-year-old Azula glared at her mother before noticing Zuko peering nervously around the woman's skirts.

"I suppose ZuZu's invited."

Her brother glowered at her before turning a worried eye up to their mother.

"Yes. He is eight—his father has requested his presence."

Azula snorted. Her mother sounded as though eight-year-olds had no business sitting in on war councils. And the thought of Fire Lord Ozai _requesting_ anything was laughable, as was the idea of Zuko sitting in.

But in the Crown Prince went, fingers smoking nervously. Azula rolled her eyes at the shut door.

"Will I be able to enter when I am eight?"

Lady Ursa looked down at her small daughter, sad. "If that is what you and your father both wish."

"Yes."

Ursa sighed and left.

...

It takes another few months for Azula's demanding questions to become orders. All of which are followed to a tee. Except for the one where she demands entrance to the war council.

By the time she's fifteen, Azula waltzes into the private chambers and takes her seat without so much as a glance at the guards by the doors, or at Zuko's long empty seat.


End file.
